Brave
by surrendersomething
Summary: Written for the Winter '14 Kink Meme. Prompt: Beckett gives Castle a full body massage. Set in an AU season four post Cops and Robbers. They're not together but their secrets aren't quite... secret.


**Brave**

**Author's Note: **A full-time job and a masters don't leave me with a lot of time for writing these days, but this was written for the Winter '14 Kink Meme in a rare break from studying. Prompt: Beckett gives Castle a full body massage. It's not quite a full body massage, but I hope you'll forgive me that slight deviation. This is set in an AU season four, after Cops and Robbers but assumes that whilst she recovered alone at her father's cabin, Kate didn't completely shut Castle out over that summer. They have acknowledged his confession of love, but they're not yet together. Quite. Title and lyrics come from 'Brave' by Sara Bareilles. Please enjoy, and Happy New Year to you all!

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><p><em>Say what you want to say, and let the words fall out<em>

_I want to see you be brave_

His skin is surprisingly soft. And warm.

Don't get her started on how warm his skin is. It's warm enough even in the unenclosed space of his bedroom for her to be comfortable clad in just a thin pair of leggings and a tank top, but his body beneath hers is like a perfect, gentle furnace.

When that's added to the gentle burn of her thigh muscles as they stretch to accommodate the broad expanse of his boxer-clad hips, she feels nothing less than delightful. Her hands are lightly slicked with warm oil that matches the exact, subtle scent of his cologne, and as she glides flat palms gently along his shoulder blades he lets out a softly contented hum which sends a shiver right down her spine.

Running a thumb gently across the nape of his neck, she can't quite remember how she got herself into this situation, with her partner half naked beneath her, but she also can't quite bring herself to wish she hadn't.

They're not... quite something yet, but there's been a softness in his eyes ever since she came back to the precinct and managed to explain to him why she had needed those three months on her own that warms her more than a hot water bottle and a glass of her favourite red has ever been able to achieve.

And so, when she noticed earlier that day the state her partner had somehow managed to work himself up into in what felt like only a few short days after his terrifying hostage experience, she had drawn on the one thing she'd wished for from the start of her physical therapy and made the bravest offer she thinks she's ever made.

And boy, has it paid off.

She didn't _quite_ expect for them to be wearing less items of clothing between them than she would wear on a normal day to the precinct when she offered, but… she's not exactly complaining.

"Mmm, Kate." Her partner's low hum rumbles through her entire body as she digs her fingers gently back into the tense muscles in his shoulders, making her close her eyes and bite her lip for a second longer than she would be willing to admit, were he in a position to see her face.

"Castle, how did you even get yourself in this state?" she asks softly, moving both hands to his right shoulder, digging the heel of her left hand into the muscle as she works it loose.

"Hm, think I pulled something lifting you into that _awesome_ Laird's Lug the other week," he mumbles, grunting in pained pleasure when she manages to release the offending muscle. "Right there," he groans, hissing a breath out as she lightens her touch to soothe rather than fix. "Think I tweaked it in the bank last week, and… mm, don't tell Alexis but I've fallen asleep over my laptop more times than I'm allowed to this week. God, that feels incredible," he groans, rolling his shoulder experimentally as she increases the pressure of her hands.

She's entirely distracted from his story for a moment as she watches the ripple of muscles in his back, her left hand straying down along his spine to chase the movement. Catching herself just in time to disguise it as the start of a sweeping up-stroke, she drags her hands to either side of his spine, resuming the gentle massage she'd begun with.

"More times than you're allowed?" she asks eventually.

"Mhmm. Two times a week. Three if a deadline is less than two weeks away."

"Remind me again who's the parent there," she murmurs, pausing to work out a couple of kinks in his back as he chuckles. Fighting the urge to actively press her thighs together at the sound (she's beyond denying that he turns her on, after all – she's just not quite at the point of acting on it), she focuses on his answer.

"Oh Alexis is, totally," he murmurs, shoulders rolling into her touch as she works the now loose muscles gently. "At least, mm 80% of the time, she self-parents," he adds self-depreciatingly, the ease in his words fuelling her own discomfort with them.

"You're a great parent, Castle," she murmurs before she can quite stop herself, biting her lip when she hears the earnestness in her tone. "Don't sell yourself short," she finishes quietly, forcing herself not to shiver when he twists his arm back to catch a hold of her thigh for a moment. "You raised an amazing girl, and that was not 80% down to her or t oanyone other than you."

"Kate," he breathes, and she drags up a reaction quick enough to push down on his shoulders when he starts to move despite the arousal that's now openly coursing through her body.

"You're an amazing dad," she tells him softly, pressing her fingers into a pressure point at the back of his neck that she's already learnt turns him to jelly and biting back a gentle smile. "Just accept the compliment, 'kay?"

"Okay," he murmurs softly, sighing gently as she eases him back into a more comfortable position. "Thank you," he murmurs softly. Smiling, she slides her hands over his shoulders and down over the thick, corded muscles in his arms.

She got herself into this mess. Surely she should be allowed to indulge just a little?

"How did you even learn to do this?" he groans, catching her focus just as her gentle exploration of his biceps starts to shift into entirely gratuitous territory. Sliding her fingers along to the bend of his elbows and finding the pressure points she knows from experience turn your arms to jelly, she takes the moment of his contented sigh to gather her thoughts and figure out exactly how much of herself she wants to share.

While not focusing at all on the fact that she's practically draped across his back.

"Would it ruin the moment if I said physical therapy?" she asks eventually, feeling the warmth of his breath against his wrist as he tries to twist his head again.

"We having a moment, Beckett?" he murmurs eventually, dislodging the breath she didn't realise was caught in her throat into a laugh and diffusing the tension all at once.

"Shut up," she murmurs, shifting back up to safer territory and sliding her hands back up, over his shoulders and down to his back. "I just… there's a lot of massage involved in PT, although it's obviously… a little more clinical than this," she adds, laughing softly. "It distracted me to pay attention, and ask questions, I guess." She pauses for a long moment, before taking a deep breath. "And I spent every night wanting something exactly like this," she finishes softly, in the name of being brave.

It reveals much more than she'd like, but she's answered all the questions he's had in the last couple of months honestly, including those about the presence of the PTSD symptoms he's seen more than a couple of times. Maybe it was time to do just that. Be brave and volunteer the one bit of information that tells him how she feels without him having to ask.

Shaking her head slightly, she bites her lip and focuses her attention on the small of his back. Discussing the summer isn't why she suggested tonight.

"Thank you," he murmurs softly, and she curls her knuckles against his back in silent acknowledgement. He never, _never_ fails to thank her for the moments when she's never felt more vulnerable, but sometimes she forgets just how well he knows her, and how she doesn't ever actually have to tell him when it's not the time to push.

"Would it make a better Nikki Heat backstory if I told you I'd gone travelling and taken a Thai massage course?" she murmurs softly, lightening the mood with a smile gracing her lips as she slides her hands down to the dangerous zone just above his gluteus muscles. As long as her fingers don't stray too near the silky elastic of the boxers she wears she can feel through the thin cotton of her leggings, she'll be fine.

That's her story, and she's sticking to it.

"Nikki's back story is just fine," he murmurs softly, and if she notices that the tone of his voice is dropping dangerously low (which she does), she isn't commenting on it. Because his words just might make her melt.

She never forgets that he loves her. Especially not since they talked about it. But sometimes, sometimes she forgets that he's _in_ love with her.

Richard Castle is in love with her.

"Kate," he murmurs softly, his voice a low rumble as she realises her palms are still against the warm skin of his back.

"I think you're good," she whispers softly, the stretch in her thigh muscles easing as she lifts her hands from his skin and moves back a little, closing her eyes for a second.

"That was amazing," he murmurs softly, and she finds herself opening her eyes as she feels the shift of his legs between hers, watching as he turns onto his back and…

Oh.

_Oh._ That's… huh.

That's pretty damn near impossible to hide. And he's not really trying. They've just spent what was probably the most intimate hour together that they've ever spent, and… Jesus, has it really been an hour?

Shaking her head slightly, she can't help the way her eyes fall back down, curiosity and sheer lust prevailing as it crosses her mind that she's _very_ glad that her thighs are no longer pressed quite so intimately against his hips in a way that would give her absolutely no way to hide how unashamedly turned on she is.

"Kate." His voice is almost choked when he speaks, and it finally draws her attention away from… _him_ long enough to realise that her hand is resting on his stomach. Slick with massage oil and dangerously close to the waistband of the boxers that are doing a truly terrible job of concealing just how much he enjoyed the last hour.

Her eyes catch his for one long, erotic moment, and somehow the simple honesty of the question contained within them makes her feel even braver than when she offered to give him a massage.

She could make her excuses and leave them both with some dignity intact, leave him to take care of the situation that she can't quite take her eyes off. She probably should do just that.

But she doesn't want to. She wants to throw caution to the wind and jump right into the relationship that they're both pretending they're not quite ready for.

And so she eases the tips of her fingers under the elastic of his boxers, drawing a tortured groan from his lips.

"Kate," he almost growls, and _shit_ if this is what he's like during foreplay, she's going to be an absolute goner once they get to anything more.

"Let me help," she whispers softly, shushing his protests as her fingers curl around him, and _fuck_ if she thought the rest of him was hot, now he's an energy source all of his own.

Hot and hard and thick, her eyes widen even more as she drags the silk of his boxers down his hips, releasing him to spring heavily against her palm.

Turns out, all that bragging wasn't exactly unfounded.

His eyes are heavy lidded when she glances up at his face, but she watches as something softens in his gaze, to mix with the entirely justified pride she knows she can see.

"Don't worry," he murmurs, the length of him throbbing against her palm. "I can be gentle." She finds herself laughing at the same time that her fist makes its first, slick slide along his shaft, and suddenly she knows with absolute certainty that he _will_ be gentle.

He'll also make her laugh more than she's ever laughed in bed before.

And she absolutely can't wait.

Her thumb swipes over his swollen head on her next stroke, catching the drop of moisture that's formed and dragging a low moan from his lips.

"Someone's getting brave," he murmurs, and she glances up to see that he's propped up on his elbows, eyes flicking between her face and her hand. Absorbing every moment.

God, she's in love with this man.

"You wanna see brave?" she murmurs back, with a particularly wicked twist of her hand that has his hips bucking right off the bed.

He's almost panting after that, and it blurs into one long, hazy moment of slick strokes and twists of her hand that have him entirely at her mercy. She's not quite sure when, but at some point in that very same moment he's lifted his thigh just enough for her to rest against, and she's knows there's absolutely no way that he's not aware of the throbbing, wet evidence of her desire.

She also doesn't know when his fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist, but there's something exhilarating about it. He's not guiding her, she knows that. From the look in his eyes, it just feels so good that he wants to experience as much of it as he can.

She feels a little light-headed herself as his orgasm builds, but the moment his release hits him she finds her eyes locked with his in a moment so intense that _she_ almost sees stars as the hot, sticky evidence of his release coats her hand and the clenching muscles of his stomach.

It would be _so _easy for her to rock her hips against his thigh and follow him right off the edge just from watching him shudder and pant beneath her, but tonight is all about being brave, and the look in his eyes tells her that whatever he's going to do to her next will be indescribable in comparison to the quick, dirty orgasm her body is demanding.

"Don't even think it," he growls, and before she can quite register what's happened, he has her flipped and underneath him on his sinfully comfortable mattress in a display of sheer masculinity that defies her expectations of any recovery time he would need.

Somehow, she doesn't think that's the last thing that will surprise her in bed with Richard Castle.

"I've got plans for you, Kate." His eyes are still slightly hazy as he gazes down at her, but there's a sheer predatory instinct in them as he studies her, coupled with his repeated use of her given name that makes her press her thighs together in anticipation.

She doesn't think that _either_ of them will be getting a lot of sleep tonight.

It's not exactly what she intended when she offered to give him a massage, but being brave brings some pretty awesome rewards, when it comes to Richard Castle.

"Not that that wasn't _the_ most incredible experience of my life," he murmurs quietly, weight braced on the bulging biceps anchored on either side of her, "but normally it's polite to at least kiss me first you know," he tells her seriously, and she can't help but laugh again at the utterly blissed out look that's still present in his eyes that suggests he's not complaining at all. Not by a long shot.

"Shut up, Castle," she whispers through a grin, finally pulling him down for their first proper kiss.

They've never really done things in the right order, anyway.

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><p>He gives her a massage in the middle of the night about a month later, after she calls him in the middle of the worst panic attack she's ever experienced during the sniper case she isn't at all ready to deal with. It's intimate and beautiful and after he's spent hours holding her and cleaning her wounds and wiping away her tears.<p>

She's absolutely certain that the massage is the only thing that both gets her a precious few hours' sleep that night and gives her the courage to face the next day.

It makes her fall in love with him even more than she thought possible.

After they face down a tiger together however, he gives her a massage of an entirely different kind.

_That_ is a night she'll never forget for entirely different reasons.

_fin._


End file.
